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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26416816">Mirror Flower, Water Moon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose'>zjofierose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst with a Happy Ending, Creepy, Implied Violence, Kuchisake onna - Freeform, M/M, Spooky, if you don't think about it too hard, slit-faced ghosts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:00:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,063</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26416816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor Nikiforov has run away, hiding from his endless success and his overwhelming burnout in a little onsen in small-town Japan where no one will recognize him. No one, except maybe for the onsen ghost.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mirror Flower, Water Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I will put some spoilers in the note at the end in case you are concerned from the tags! Please click to the bottom to answer any questions before diving in.</p><p>Many many thanks to @faeriefirefly for the extensive handholding and beta job. &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He waits a full week before he unpacks his skates from the bag he’d tossed in the corner of the room. It’s the longest he’s gone in the last twenty years of his life without skating, but, well. That was kind of the point of this whole trip. Five-time consecutive champion for every men’s singles skating event there is, the one and only Victor Nikiforov, who disappeared after this year’s Worlds in order to…what, he’s not sure. But disappear he has, and he doesn’t intend to be found.</p><p>He spends the first few days in and out of the hot springs, emerging for meals before returning to the pools, rinse and repeat until bedtime. There’s a shocking cold snap the day after he arrives, and he sits in the steaming water with a cloth on his head as snowflakes drift down intermingled with cherry blossoms. It’s beautiful, and lonely, and unlike anything he’s ever known before.</p><p>On the eighth day, he asks the onsen’s hostess, a sweet, motherly woman who likes to pat his cheek and serve him extra portions at dinner, for directions to the local ice rink. He knows there’s one nearby; it’s part of why he’d picked this town, this inn. He’s not planning on returning to competition, can’t imagine how he could, as burned out and uninspired as he is, but at the same time, he can’t imagine never skating again. </p><p>There’s a flicker of sadness across Hiroko-san’s face when he asks, but it disappears quickly into determination as she pulls down a local map and marks a walking route for him in red marker. “Have a good time,” she says, patting him on the arm with clear dismissal. “Tell Yuuko-chan hello.”</p><p>He has no idea who Yuuko-chan is, but he nods obediently and folds the map into his pocket.</p><p>“I’ll be back for dinner,” he says, bending to kiss her on each plump cheek as she beams. “<em> Arigato! Sayonara! </em>”</p><p>--</p><p>The rink is small and aging, but well-maintained. Victor doesn’t pay much attention to the details the first few times, too focused on pulling a hat over his distinctive hair and skating simple figures and easy, single-rotation jumps. It’s meditative, and he uses it as an excuse to work on his footwork. Jumps were always his forte, but he googles some of the old figures that Yakov used to go on about and begins to drill them, carving delicate patterns into the ice as his mind wanders far and free.</p><p>He’s become familiar with the rink over the past couple weeks—the peeling paint in the locker rooms, the advertisements for the local beer-league, the faded posters of a hometown skater with a blue jacket and large, charming eyes—when he first sees the boy at the bus stop. </p><p>It’s nearly dark, and Victor is going to be late for the onsen’s dinner hour, which is why he’s contemplating the bus at all. He prefers the walk, but it’s a solid half hour stroll, and his phone thinks a bus should come in the next five minutes and get him to Yu-topia in another seven.</p><p>He thinks at first that the boy is maybe a high-schooler, but as he gets closer, he decides he’s wrong—the boy is smaller than Victor, but clearly full-grown, hair thick and dark, face hidden behind a surgical mask and angular glasses—but there’s no hiding the physique of an athlete, the stranger’s thick thighs and strong core only complemented by the skate bag that sits by his feet. </p><p>“<em> Ohayo </em>,” Victor greets cheerily. He tries not to deflate when the boy glances at him in surprise, then immediately hunches over, staring at his shoes. Victor sits at the far end of the bench, trying not to stare and wondering why, if the boy skates, Victor hasn’t seen him on the ice. He’s been too preoccupied, he decides, but next time he’ll pay more attention; pull his head up, look around.</p><p>The bus arrives, and Victor makes an inquisitive noise at his companion, who just pulls himself in tighter and shakes his head. So, Victor boards and heads back to the onsen to eat his now-accustomed dinner and have his now-habitual soak in the hot springs before lying down in his now-familiar bed. </p><p>His last thought before he drifts off is of the look of sheer surprise on the boy’s face when Victor greeted him. <em> So strange, </em> Victor thinks sleepily. Did he not expect Victor to acknowledge him?</p><p>--</p><p>By the time two months have passed and summer has rolled in humid and hot from the ocean, Victor has struck up a tentative friendship with the owners of the rink, the Nishigoris, who happen to be skating fans. This results in the following: Victor’s possession of a key to the rink, allowing him to practice in the off-hours with no spectators; a standing weekly physio session with Nishigori Takeshi; a standing weekly drinking date with Nishigori Yuuko; and a weekly private lesson with their three daughters in exchange for the entire family’s sworn silence regarding his presence in Hasetsu. </p><p>He still comes in during the regular hours, especially on hot days, but now he comes to the Ice Castle every night, immersing himself in the silence and darkness of the empty rink, losing himself in the chill wind of his movements over the ice. </p><p>It’s nearly ten o’clock tonight, later than usual because he’d been caught up at dinner talking with Katuski Toshiya, the innkeeper at Yu-topia Katsuki, but Victor keys his way into the building and changes into his skates without bothering to turn on any lights. The moon is full and shining through the skylights, bathing the rink in an eerie glow. </p><p>The silence is profound, but then there is a scrape, and Victor looks up in surprise from where he’s tightening his laces. He was sure there was no one else here, but if the slim figure gliding across the ice is any indication, he was wrong. </p><p>He holds his breath, watching as the skater builds up speed and leaps—one, two, three rotations to land in a perfect triple axel. <em> Who is this </em>, Victor wonders, laying a finger across his lips. Who in Hasetsu, near Victor’s own age, knows how to land competition-grade jumps, but is entirely unknown to Victor himself? </p><p>The skater turns, flinging himself into a choreographed sequence, the footwork as hard as any Victor’s ever mastered and executed more cleanly, then segues into a beautiful spin. Victor’s heart is in his throat and he must make a noise, because the skater freezes, turning to stare at him.</p><p><em> It’s the boy from the bus stop, </em> Victor thinks, and lifts his hand to greet him, but the skater is already flying to the exit, and by the time Victor gets to the locker room, there’s no trace that he was ever there.</p><p>--</p><p>It’s around then that Victor begins to notice strange things at Yu-topia Katsuki. He’s not sure if they weren’t happening before or if he just didn’t notice, but suddenly, things are moving around in his room; his workout gear seems messed with, his skates change locations. Makkachin, who has finally made it through Japanese pet clearance and joined him at the inn, sometimes sits on the bed and stares into space, wagging her tail in greeting. It’s not confined to Victor’s room, either; faint music floats around the bathing pools with no obvious source, the TV changes from football to skating. </p><p>“Mari,” Victor asks one day when he catches the Katsuki daughter outside on her break, “is the onsen haunted?”</p><p>Her English is better than her parents’, and she’s utterly no-nonsense, which Victor admires deeply, so he takes her entirely seriously when she takes a long, thoughtful drag on her cigarette, looks him in the eye, and simply says, “Yes.”</p><p>Victor nods slowly and goes back inside.</p><p>--</p><p>The next time he sees the mystery skater, Victor’s the one on the ice, skating long warm-up loops. He’s thinking over some choreography; why, he doesn’t know, since he’s not planning on returning in the fall. But it’s stuck in his head, so he may as well get it out. He’s working it through- where the beats would fall, where to position the jumps- when his skin prickles with the feeling of being watched.</p><p>“<em> Ohayo </em>,” he says, turning to spot the same face watching him from across the boards. It’s the same boy from the bus stop, the same one from the ice before, and there’s something familiar about him that Victor can’t quite put a finger on. He gives the stranger his best smile, reaching out a hand. “Will you join me?”</p><p>The boy’s face, what Victor can see of it, is confused, but he’s not running away. Victor skates to the boards. </p><p>“My name’s Victor! I saw you skating the other night. You’re remarkable! Won’t you come skate with me?”</p><p>The skater blinks at Victor in consternation. “I know who you are,” he says, and his voice is so sweet, so careful. <em> This may have been a mistake, </em> Victor thinks, if he’s been recognized. While it makes sense, given the quality of the man’s skating, that he would follow the sport, Victor really would prefer to keep his location under wraps.</p><p>“Ah,” he starts, but the boy cuts him off. </p><p>“You see me?” he asks, his voice strangely tight. “You saw me skate?”</p><p>Victor blinks. “Yes?” he answers. It’s a weird question, but maybe it’s a language barrier. The man’s English seems good, if gently accented, but maybe he meant, has Victor <em> recognized </em> him. “Yes, your skating is wonderful. Do you compete?”</p><p>“I did.” The man dips his head shyly. “But not anymore.”</p><p>“A shame,” Victor says, unthinking. “You’re beautiful on the ice.”</p><p>Something flashes across the man’s face, something sharp and painful, and Victor is already opening his mouth to apologize when the stranger shakes his head hard. </p><p>“I have to go,” he says, turning, and before Victor can even get his skate guards on, he’s gone.</p><p>---</p><p>The activity at the onsen only increases after this. Victor feels like he’s being watched everywhere he goes. The water in the hot springs sloshes like someone is coming and going even when he’s the only one there; the food is too hot or too cold or getting knocked off tables when no one is near; Makkachin decides to howl in the middle of the night, disrupting Victor and the rest of the inn. Even the Katsukis are looking a little grim around the edges, for all that they’re a uniformly cheerful and professional bunch.</p><p>“<em> Okaasan </em>, can’t you get him to stop?” he hears Mari asking Hiroko-san one morning. “He’s been mostly quiet for the last couple of years. Why is it suddenly like it was at first?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Hiroko answers, and Victor feels bad for the amount of exhaustion he hears in her voice. “I left some katsudon on the altar for him. I’m not sure why he’s so uneasy.”</p><p>“I wish he’d just rest.” Mari’s voice is small, and Victor can’t help but wonder who it is they’re speaking of—the onsen ghost, presumably, but who this person was, Victor has no clue. </p><p>“I know, Mari-chan,” Hiroko says softly. “I know.”</p><p>--</p><p>Makkachin howls again that night, and Victor gives up on sleep, sitting up to keep her entertained and distracted from whatever it is that has her moving around the room and sniffing at the air. Finally, she lies down to rest, but Victor is wide awake, so he decides to wander downstairs and sit outside where there’s at least a breeze to cut the August heat. </p><p>He finds himself in the altar room entirely by accident; he’s never been here before, and it feels like he’s trespassing, the stillness in the room at odds with the thinly-veiled chaos hanging over the rest of the inn. He’s turning to go when he catches sight of a large framed photo set behind a flickering candle, and, <em> Oh </em> , he thinks, <em> those eyes are so familiar </em>.</p><p>He steps forward, feeling like he’s moving in a dream, reaching out to run a finger down the simple wooden frame which surrounds a beautiful professional shot of a figure skater. The same figure skater, Victor is certain, whom he has seen both at the bus stop and on the ice. </p><p>“‘<em> You can see me </em> ,’” he mutters to himself, and <em> yes </em>, that sure would answer a few questions. There’s a caption on the photo, and he sounds it out carefully, his several months of residence here letting him sound out the letters aloud. “Kat-suki Yuu-ri,” he murmurs, and there’s an affirmative from behind him.</p><p>“My little brother,” Mari says matter-of-factly, lighting a cigarette. “A figure skater. Like you.”</p><p>“What happened?” Victor breathes, his attention grabbed by another photo in the flickering candlelight, this one of a small boy, face wreathed in smiles and arms wrapped around a dog.</p><p>“We don’t know,” Mari answers, her voice thin and tight, delicate in a way Victor does not associate with her. “He disappeared after winning gold at Junior Worlds when he was eighteen. He was never seen again.”</p><p>Victor frowns. “You’re sure he’s dead?”</p><p>“Yes.” Mari’s response is firm, even though her face twists. “But he is not at rest. He haunts the onsen, and the ice rink, and sometimes parts of the town. I wish he would move on, but…”</p><p>Victor just nods. “I’ve seen him,” he says, and Mari gives him half a smile. </p><p>“I thought you might,” she admits. “He was a fan of yours. I guess you probably never met him, since he disappeared before he entered seniors, but his room is still full of posters of you.”</p><p><em> “I know who you are,” </em> Victor thinks, and his heart hurts. </p><p>“Thank you, Mari,” he says formally, standing and bowing to her. “I am sorry for your loss.”</p><p>Mari’s eyes are dry, but her mouth twists hard before she replies, “When you see him again, please tell him we worry about him, and that we hope he is taking good care.”</p><p>---</p><p>Yuuri is there when Victor arrives at the rink the next night, dressed in practice clothes but still wearing his mask. He moves on the ice like a dream, and Victor’s heart breaks knowing that the world was denied Katsuki Yuuri at the height of his artistic powers. </p><p>He puts on his skates, lacing them up as quietly as possible and removing his guards before stepping onto the ice. </p><p>“Yuuri,” he calls, voice low, and Yuuri stutters to a stop in the center of the ice, arms wrapped tight around himself.</p><p>“You know my name,” Yuuri states, voice wavering as he turns to face Victor. </p><p>“I do,” Victor agrees, moving slowly closer. Yuuri seems so surprisingly solid, so utterly real. “I’m so sorry, Yuuri. I had no idea.”</p><p>There’s a movement under the mask that might be a sad smile. “It’s alright, Victor,” Yuuri says, his body trembling slightly as Victor draws nearer. “You didn’t know.”</p><p>“I’ll tell you what I <em> do </em> know,” Victor says, drifting to a stop just close enough to touch, if he wanted. </p><p>“What’s that?” Yuuri asks, his brown eyes wide and lovely. Victor feels like he’s falling, feels like his entire life has been leading to this moment, alone on the ice with a ghost in Japan. </p><p>“That you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Victor tells him, sincerity laced unmistakably through his voice.</p><p>Yuuri winces and looks away. “I’m not,” he insists, his voice cold. “And I never will be again.”</p><p>Victor reaches out, setting a gentle finger under Yuuri’s chin and lifting his face back toward him. “You are,” he says, “and I will always think so.”</p><p>Yuuri draws a shaking breath, then lifts a hand to unhook his mask from one ear. It falls away, and Victor has to suppress a gasp as the bottom half of Yuuri’s face is revealed. His eyes are as lovely as ever, huge and soulful, expressive and aching, but his mouth…Victor can’t tear his gaze away. It, too, was no doubt lovely once—certainly it laughed and spoke and smiled—but now the lips are pale and thin, and where the corners of his mouth would be there stretch thinly bleeding gashes that arc across his cheeks nearly to his ears.</p><p>“What about now, Victor?” Yuuri asks miserably, the wounds gaping as he speaks. “Am I beautiful now?”</p><p>Victor lifts his gaze to Yuuri’s eyes, his hand to trace the curve of Yuuri’s cheek, the shape of his bottom lip. “You are,” he answers, voice steady, “the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”</p><p>Yuuri’s eyes well with tears, and Victor can’t help but feel a little weepy himself. He catches Yuuri’s hand in his, lifting it to his mouth and kissing it softly.</p><p>“What now?” he asks, and Yuuri gives a wet, faintly hysterical chuckle. </p><p>“I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to make you like me,” he confesses, and Victor should probably feel much more threatened, but he’s too busy being charmed by the blush rising in Yuuri’s cheeks. </p><p>“Is that what happened to you?” Victor asks, suddenly curious, and Yuuri nods, reaching to pull the mask back into place. Victor stops him, and Yuuri blinks, surprised. </p><p>“You don’t…mind?” he asks, and Victor shakes his head. Yuuri carefully unhooks the mask from his other ear and shoves it into his pocket, looking away. </p><p>“She was such a sweet little girl,” he says, sighing. “How could I not tell her she was pretty? I wasn’t really expecting,” he gestures, “all of this.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Victor says again, taking both of Yuuri’s hands in his. “Is that what you have to do, then? Cut my face and kill me?”</p><p>“I don’t want to,” Yuuri says, and his eyes are wide and honest, his face sweet and kind. </p><p><em> It’s not a “No,” </em> Victor thinks, but asks instead, “What <em> do </em> you want to do?”</p><p>Yuuri’s voice is tentative, his expression cautious. “Victor Nikiforov,” he whispers, holding out a hand, “will you skate with me?”</p><p>Victor can feel his own face splitting with a grin as he takes Yuuri’s cold hand in his own. “Yes,” he answers, as Yuuri begins to pull them into a synchronized series of steps across the ice. “But only if you promise to stay close to me.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yuuri is a ghost. Yes, that means he's dead. Like, for real. Also, he's not a spirit at peace, no matter how much he loves Victor. There is no on-screen violence as it were, but there is definitely some light implied murder.</p><p>Comments are love, uwu, plz love me! Or scream at me on twitter (@zjofierose) or in <a href="https://discord.gg/TYMxcAB">discord!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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